Lost Weekend

There came a point on Saturday night, as I drank a toast on the balcony of the exquisite Truckee restaurant Cottonwood, while looking out over the sun setting over the Sierra, that I thought to myself "I could have been making awkward small talk with some ex-cheerleader at my 10-year high school reunion right now". Oh darn. Well, there's always the 20th...If I start planning now, maybe I can arrange to be in Paris that weekend.

I heard from my friend who attended that our classmate the adult film star mysteriously didn't show, so I officially Missed Nothing. Well, okay, there were a couple of people who it wouldn't have sucked to see. They should read the next paragraph.

In other news, I learned today that a Google search of my name officially returns...drum roll please...me. This wouldn't exactly surprise me, except that I (the real me, not some Re/Max agent named Gerry) used to be way over on page 2 or 3. I'm now officially #1. So anybody who says they've wanted to look me up hasn't been friggin' trying. Or they can't figure out how to master that confoundingly difficult process of typing in a name and hitting Enter.